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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26421757">3:45 am</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoctuaLusa/pseuds/NoctuaLusa'>NoctuaLusa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Battle of Hogwarts, Bisexual Dean Thomas, Boys In Love, Gay Seamus Finnigan, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, POV Dean Thomas, POV Third Person, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Short One Shot, Therapy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:41:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>525</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26421757</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoctuaLusa/pseuds/NoctuaLusa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Thomas has survived the Battle of Hogwarts. But there is no happy-ending after a war.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>3:45 am</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His nights are dark and full of terrors. </p><p>One might think it stops after a while, after months and months of drinking too much coffee to stay awake and even more after finally talking to a mind healer in St Mungo’s for a while. They’re muggleborn and started that new ward a while ago.<br/>
After the war, they told Dean, they suddenly had so many patients that their superiors finally stopped being wary about their idea. They even gave them more money and were willing to train more mind healers for the wizarding community (well, they actually said wixen community, he remembers). Dean is thankful for their sessions and that there are always boxes with enough tissues on the small table. </p><p>But right now it is three forty-five in the morning and he can’t really think of anything his healer told him to do in these moments and his pillow is wet with tears he must have cried in his sleep and he shivers, for his whole body is covered in cold sweat. </p><p>He has been back in his dreams, back in the crumbling castle he once called home, back in the midst of a magical battle, without even a wand to defend himself. All the screams sounded so real in his mind again, the pain of his scraped hands and knees from when he had flung himself out of the range of deadly curses felt just like they did in May. And Seamus has been nowhere to be seen. His eyes darted through the rooms and corridors, over fighting people and motionless bodies on the ground, looking for that one face, for these sandy locks of hair. </p><p>He couldn’t find him. </p><p>Dean has woken up screaming, again, fighting against the blanket and against the arms that held him, sure for a moment that they were the arms of some Death Eater, struggling to free himself from… </p><p>Seamus. It is Seamus. It is always Seamus in whose arms he wakes up these days. Seamus is right behind him and he does not seem to mind being woken up again and again and again, spending what feels like half of their nights whispering reassuring words (“Hey, you got a wand then, remember? You found me, too, and we got out of there alive, together, remember?”). </p><p>Seamus even falls back to sleep every time, his face pressed into Dean’s back, his arms around Dean’s waist, grounding him in reality, at least for a while. And he’s right, of course. Dean did get a wand (although he tries not to think about the bloody fingers he took it from) and he did find Seamus, later, afterwards. Dean is with him right now, in the small apartement he calls home today. He has not lost him. Every deep breath, every quiet snore in his back reminds him of that fact. </p><p>Dean lies awake and pinches his own arm whenever he feels like darkness – and the terrors – try to sneak in on him again. He stares at the light of the street lantern in front of their bedroom window and waits for the sunrise. </p><p>It must come. </p><p>It always comes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really, really want all of them to have access to therapy. </p><p>If you like Deamus but would rather read something less angsty about them, you might try my longer oneshot "Dean Thomas and the Moving Portrait".</p><p>As English is not my first language and I wrote this with too much caffeine in my system, please point out any grammar fuck-ups in the comments, I highly appreciate it. Also, I love your kudos.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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